


Cabin Fever

by idonthaveyourappetite



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, More Sexual Tension, Murder Husbands, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 20:50:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8462494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idonthaveyourappetite/pseuds/idonthaveyourappetite
Summary: The air was cold and crisp; just short of biting, autumn teetering on the edge of winter. The light from the crackling fireplace sent long shadows crawling up the wall. Will leaned back in his chair, studying the bas-relief of Hannibal’s inscrutable face, annoyed by the steady scratching of his pencil and his placid, unbreakable concentration. He stood and paced, restive; irritated with Hannibal’s indifference but more viciously frustrated with himself for craving attention like a horny teenager or a lovesick puppy.





	

The air was cold and crisp; just short of biting, autumn teetering on the edge of winter. The light from the crackling fireplace sent long shadows crawling up the wall. Will leaned back in his chair, studying the bas-relief of Hannibal’s inscrutable face, annoyed by the steady scratching of his pencil and his placid, unbreakable concentration. He stood and paced, restive; irritated with Hannibal’s indifference but more viciously frustrated with himself for craving attention like a horny teenager or a lovesick puppy.

“Will.” Hannibal didn’t look up from his writing. Or sketching. Whatever work he’s doing, whatever _intellectual activity_ he could be pursuing while holed up here and on the run.  _Always the renaissance man_. It brought a sneer to his lips. “Please sit down.” Hannibal was using that professorial tone again, detached and smooth,  _careless_ , and something snapped. He was tired, tired of being brushed off like a child, tired of being taken for granted after everything they’d gone through and everything they’d been to each other—after everything that Hannibal had done to catch him and keep him. He grabbed his coat and wordlessly wrenched the door open, letting it bang on its hinges. Though Hannibal tutted in disapproval, his pencil never stopped its movement.  
  
When Will returned well after midnight, deliberately reeking of liquor and with bruises visible on his neck, he was only half-surprised that Hannibal has not moved from his seat by the now-dying fire. The alcohol in his bloodstream and the chill in the air spurred his recklessness. He dropped into the seat opposite Hannibal, making sure the red light illuminated his bruised throat. Hannibal inhaled sharply and froze, and that little reaction brought a savage smile to Will’s lips.  _There_. He could see the smell of whiskey coupled with another man’s sweat registering, could see Hannibal tasting his betrayal.  _Do I have your attention now, Doctor Lecter?_  Hannibal didn’t speak but closed his journal neatly and stood, approaching Will with a dancer’s grace and a lion’s predation. Will gained his feet unsteadily, adrenaline shooting through his veins.  _Here we go._  For all he knew, this would end terribly—with Hannibal leaving him bleeding on the floor or worse, Hannibal just leaving. But he had to do something, anything, to bring Hannibal back into their game. 

A sneer curled Hannibal’s lips, and his eyes were terrifying blanks in the half-light. Will couldn’t help but step back, his eyes scanning the room for the exits out of pure instinct. Hannibal’s fist closed around his curls, forcing his head up and back. Still he said nothing, his eyes roaming over the bruises on Will’s neck in measured disapproval. His voice was cool when he spoke, but Will could feel the heat between their bodies and had to stop himself from pressing needily against Hannibal’s chest. “What have you done, Will? Tell me.”  
“I went out.”  
“And?”  
Will took a deep breath. “ I went out and took what you couldn’t give me.” He couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice. Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

“If you wanted attention, all you had to do was ask. I assure you I am more than capable of giving you what you crave.”  _Yes_. There it was, the dark velvet of desire in Hannibal’s voice, curling like fingers around his throat. “And perhaps more than that, since you insist on being so rude and base,” Hannibal continued, and Will shuddered visibly.


End file.
